Nine.

"You smell sweet," Dune Cates heard Sophie Saunders say. His back was to her, and he turned to see who she was sniffing.

"Let me rub my sugar on you."

Mac James stood a foot away. Sophie blushed when he hugged her. Dune counted to ten. "You can let go of her now."

Mac kissed Sophie on the forehead, then released her. It was a brotherly kiss, Dune noted, and not one to provoke or piss him off. Mac was a flirt and laid his charm on thick. Not so tonight. His partner appeared friendly, but reserved. Dune wondered what had triggered the change.

"What brings you to the Civic Center?" asked Sophie.

"Jenna brought me," Mac said easily.

Ah, crap, Dune thought. He didn't like the fact that Jen and Mac were together. He'd lost a second bet to Sophie.

Sophie glanced up. Her eyes were bright and her smile triumphant. I told you so was written all over her face. She was gracious. She didn't whoop, victory dance, or call attention to herself. Instead, she stood very still. She didn't want Mac aware of their wager.

Dune inhaled and caught a whiff of sugar and vanilla. He eyed Mac. "Your shirt smells like a bakery," he said.

"It's my nightshirt," Jen said, joining them. She carried a small terra-cotta planter painted with purple pansies. "The scent of Frosted Cupcake body lotion never fully washes out."

Dune raised a brow. "How'd Mac get hold of your nightshirt?" he asked.

The moment turned awkward. "He followed me home," Jen finally said.

"Followed her after her date canceled at the last minute," Mac was quick to say.

"His hoodie and shirt were dirty, so I lent him a replacement," Jen continued. "Mac likes art and wanted to attend Twilight Bazaar."

"Mac and art?" That surprised Dune.

"So he says."

"He says a lot."

Mac rolled his shoulders. "Have you met her cats?" he asked Dune.

Dune nodded. He'd cat-sat for Jen on a weekend when he was home and Jen needed to go out of town. "Chike was distant, but he kept an eye on me the whole time."

"No male bonding with me, either," Mac admitted.

"Chike is cautious," Jenna said. "He chooses his friends wisely."

"Next visit and we'll be tight," Mac predicted.

"No more visits," Jen said firmly.

Dune saw the look Mac gave Jen when she wasn't watching. It was an anxious, yet purposeful stare. Dune had never known Mac to be nervous around a woman. This was a first for him.

Mac had somehow finagled a date to the bazaar. The night was young and Mac and Jen had yet to face off. Dune sensed their evening would end badly. They were two very different people. Common ground wasn't in their future.

He happened to glance down. "Nice boots, dude." He grinned at Mac.

"Gardening boots," said Mac. He stepped from one foot to the other and winced. "Tight and itchy. Fire and brimstone."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Jen reminded him.

"I'm begging off shortly."

"Feel free to leave anytime," she said sweetly.

Underlying sarcasm? Dune heard it and so had Mac. Her tone set Mac off. A muscle jerked in his jaw. "Hard to believe she's attracted to me," he said.

"She is?" Sophie came alive at Dune's side.

"So she claims."

Jenna glared at Mac. "I can't believe you said that."

"I can't believe you're so upset."

"Believe it." She clutched the flowerpot so tightly, Dune expected her to crack it over Mac's skull. Instead, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Her anger lingered. They all felt it.

Mac stared after her. "What the hell just happened?"

"Jen left you for dead," said Dune.

"I can't win for losing."

"What, exactly, are you trying to win?" Dune wanted to know.

"Or who?" inserted Sophie.

Mac didn't answer. It wasn't like him to close down. He always had a smartass remark. Not so tonight, thought Dune. Mac was quiet and introspective. He was oblivious to the women who passed by, smiled at him, brushed against him, and gave him the sexual eye.

Sophie patted Mac on the arm. "You can walk around with us," she offered.

"Or you can walk home," suggested Dune.

"Thanks, Soph, you always look out for me." Mac put his arm around her shoulders. She was the perfect leaning post for his height. "I'll hang for a few more minutes," he said.

"No more than ten," said Dune.

The three of them moved with the crowd. They eventually stopped at a booth with framed pastels. "The paintings are soft and soothing," Sophie observed. "The hammocks and bedrooms make me sleepy."

"Bet the artist was tired," said Mac.

Mac released Sophie long enough to pick up a small painting of a vintage wooden rocker. The wicker was intricately painted. The back curved like a spine. "Looks similar to the one in Jenna's cottage," he said.

"A nice gift," Dune noted, "especially if a guy screwed up and wanted to make amends."

Mac continued to look at the painting. He stared so long that Dune made the decision for him. Something had gone down between Mac and Jenna that only Mac could fix. He gave his partner the benefit of the doubt. He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and passed him a fifty.

"Resolve" was all he said. He left the rest to Mac.

Mac bought the painting and pocketed the change. The Civic Center was packed and people pushed around them; a few cut between them. Mac wasn't fazed until someone stepped on his toe.

"Time to kick these boots," he grunted. "Take care of our Sophie," he said to Dune. "I'm out of here." He and his painting moved toward the main door.

"Poor Mac," Sophie sighed. "He and Jen didn't last long. They don't do well on dates."

"Poor me," said Dune. "They arrived together. That's all you needed to collect on our second bet."

"There are lots of choices at the bazaar."

She took his hand as she was apt to do. Jostled by the crowd, they bumped arms, hips, legs. She stepped on his foot twice. He didn't mind. There was something oddly comforting in knowing she walked beside him.

They weren't an official couple, although each time he was with her, he liked her more. He found it harder and harder to remember that he was an injured volleyball player without a future. Hanging out with Sophie gave him a sense of purpose. He liked waking up to her latest adventure.

It took them two hours to view every booth and table inside the Civic Center. The vendors smiled when Sophie approached. She wanted to support every artist and merchant. She was a guaranteed sale.

She swatted his hand when he offered to cover her purchases. Still, he was fast with the cash. He watched as she bought items for everyone but herself. She was a giver.

His arms were soon filled with a handmade quilt for his sister Shaye, a pale driftwood wreath for Nicole Archer, a terrarium for Jenna, and a small stained glass window for Molly Malone. She had yet to decide who would get the button and coin necklaces.

"Need help?" Young Chuck from the diner found them in the crowd. The kid had been working with Sophie's gardener and, from what Dune had heard from Violet, was doing a great job. The boy had a green thumb, according to Luis. The gardener was happy to have a helper for the summer.

"I need to make a trip to the SUV," Dune told Chuck. He was still driving his parents' Tahoe and glad for the cargo space. "Stick with Sophie. Carry whatever she buys."

Chuck flexed his arm. "I'm strong."

Dune returned moments later to find Sophie in the children's aisle. Chuck was buried beneath arts and crafts. His vision was limited. He squinted between an amber mason jar filled with dark hot chocolate-the recipe attached-and a decoupage paperweight featuring the map of Florida.

Sophie held up a container of pink, yellow, and blue bath salts. "Aren't these pretty?" she asked.

"Your bathwater will look like a rainbow," said Chuck. Sophie took two.

Dune experienced a purely male moment as he looked at her. She was soft and sweetly curved. Somewhere between the Sneaker Ball and the Civic Center, he'd begun to picture her naked. He could see her wet, soapy, and slick. The image forced him to shift his stance. Damn erection.

He handed Chuck the keys to the SUV. "Go out the front door, third lane on the left, fifth car down, a blue Tahoe."

"Load 'em up," the boy said as he squeezed through the crowd.

There were so many children's creations, and Sophie wanted one of each. Dune watched as she fell in love with an origami swan. Next, she couldn't pass up an Empire State Building built with root beer bottle caps. Someone had drunk a lot of soda.

She bought an angel made from a paper towel roll. The roll was wrapped in wide lace ribbon and the wings were bent copper. It had a tinfoil halo.

Sophie praised the third grade girl who'd crafted the angel. Her words caused the girl to cover her face and blush. Sophie went on to order a dozen additional angels for Christmas.

"I'm going to hang them on my tree," she told Dune.

He nodded. "They'll make nice ornaments."

"I have tanks," a young boy called from the next table. "They're made of tire tread."

Cool toys, Dune thought. Made from thick, durable belted rubber, the tanks would tough it out for a lot of years. One tank had a Michelin stripe and another said DUNLOP. He bought the Dunlop for his four-year-old cousin.

A ceramic giraffe caught his eye, one similar to the one he'd made as a kid. It was far better crafted, he noted. He laid out two dollars.

It took him a moment to realize Sophie had left his side. Where had she gone? He turned and found her standing near the pet station. Dwarf hamsters in clear plastic runabout balls had caught her attention. She remained perfectly still as the balls lightly bumped her feet and rolled off. The hamsters were exercising and getting quite a workout.

Sophie went down on her hands and knees for a better look. Dune leaned against the doorframe and watched her watch them. Her soft brow creased and her green eyes were narrowed. Her curiosity was piqued.

She gently put her hand on one ball, stopping its progress. "Why are there two hamsters inside?" she asked the vendor seated on a chair in the corner.

"Small females, six weeks old," the man replied. "Each weighs less than an ounce. It takes both of them to move the ball."

Dune knew what was coming; he could feel it in his bones. It would be great for Sophie to have a pet. Hamsters, however, didn't live very long.

"Life span?" he asked the seller.

The man shrugged. "One to four years."

Sophie pushed to her feet. She cradled the plastic ball with the two females to her chest. She carefully stepped around those still running a marathon. She came to him and gave him a small smile. "I'm collecting my bet."

The vendor stood so fast his chair fell over. "Twenty dollars," he told Dune. "Do you need a cage? Food? I'm full-service."

The supplies were stored in a custodial closet. The man had a selection to pamper and spoil any hamster. Dune held the plastic ball, while Sophie chose her items. The Dwarfs were pocket pets. The tiny females huddled together, their noses twitching.

The vendor pulled a cage from the top shelf. "This is a nice starter home," he told Sophie.

She shook her head. "Too small."

She preferred the Habitat Plaza. The picture on the box showed a multi-level, high-rise manufactured with twisting tube tunnels, platforms, and two running wheels. Dune would help her put it together.

Further necessities included a water bottle, earthenware feeding dish, a chewing stick, and small bag of seeds and pellets. The vendor tossed in the clear plastic ball as a bonus item.

"Wow, Dwarfies," Chuck said when he located them again. He tossed Dune his keys. "My teacher kept a gerbil and two white mice in class last year. We took turns taking them home on the weekends."

"You can watch my girls if I ever go out of town," Sophie told him.

Chuck puffed up, proud she trusted him. "Do you need help with the rest of this stuff?" he asked.

Dune handed Chuck the plastic ball. "Handle them with care," he said.